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All the words I wish I could have told you

I got rid of my last photo of you, and I immediately regretted it. I realized that I will never be able to use the photos I took, documenting our love, as a bookmark.

I regretted that on any suspecting afternoon, with the sun gleaming just right twenty years from now, one of those photos will never fall out of an old book in front of my children and they won’t ask about the boy in the picture with curly hair and reddened cheeks.

I regretted it because you are – you were – my first love. And a person only gets one of those in a lifetime.

When I finally left I reacted curt toward you, almost passive or indifferent, because I didn’t want you to know that this was killing me too. Because I wanted to be strong – because the alternative was weak. Because we met un-intentionally and you immediately became forever etched into my soul.

I regretted it because we were damned from the start – because I found happiness in you before I found happiness in myself.

But, the reality is that I didn’t even know that I was looking for someone like you to save me from my misdirection. In fact, all I knew was that I liked the feeling in my stomach when your bright smile landed in my direction. I liked the comfort I felt in your eyes, I liked being desired. And, I liked how the beginning of our love story sprouted as if it were straight out of a Nora Ephron film.

The thing about those movies, however, is that they always ended just before the story actually began and reality set in.

For whatever reason, I thought myself righteous enough to pop our bubble. To be the one who decides that there is something better, grander, more extraordinary beyond the story of us.

So, I let it go. I convinced myself that I needed to get away so that I could start feeling again.

But seared inside my mind, hidden behind my self-proclaimed and glaring passions for the best love story known to man – and my belief that you couldn’t possibly give it to me – are the photos of you that I took in sepia. My hand on your chest. The back of your head against a sunset. Our hands holding one another. A kiss stolen in a gas station parking lot. Your eyes meeting mine with affection from the driver’s seat when we stopped at a red light and I told you to smile.

I regret that I didn’t give us the chance to seize just one more moment together. I regret that I didn’t give us a chance.

I know that you broke my heart in little ways for a long time, but I broke your heart in a big way all at once. One does not cancel out the other.

I loved you unconditionally. You knew it, too, but you lost me. I waited until I had enough and I left.

I realized that it is better to be single and search for myself, then to settle for something I feel insecure in.

Don’t get me wrong though. Our ending wasn’t nearly as tumultuous as I am making it out to be, nor as I would have liked it to be. One second we were, the next we were not. And that was it. We just ended. There was no thunder, no lightening. Nothing.

Even now as I am sorting through what exactly happened, I still can’t help but think that if you loved me the way you said you did you would have treated me the way you said you would.

I wouldn’t have had to beg.

Even when we did eventually try to talk about us, instead of ignoring the elephant in the room with banter or seduction, I’d be speechless. I didn’t know where to start.

But, please don’t mistake my silence for indifference. I do still love you. I always will, except it’s not the same. We spent so much time together and I know that I am saying so little right now to make up for it. I know that this is unbearable, but I promise you that every word I wish to utter to you is in my mind. I just can’t bring myself to speak when you look at me like that. When you draw yourself closer, it is a bribe which I can’t commit to. So please take a step back, I’m so tired of this. I am drained. If I stayed, I would spend a lifetime choking on words I wouldn’t ever dare to say.

I invested in you and I lost myself. I became dependent. And to be honest, this was the last thing I wanted. I spent close to a year relying on someone I didn’t want to rely on – nor could I. I knew it was the end long before you did, and I held on anyways, just in case, because I have a drastic fear of letting go and moving on.

But how can I reconcile breaking your heart and leaving everything we had together in just a few short minutes. You say that I took you by surprise, that you didn’t see it coming – but I don’t know how. I gave you all of the signs. You saw my silent tears. I always knew I wanted more. I was destined for something different. I felt it, deep in my bones, I just never faced it until I was forced to. I was able to ignore my confusion because we laughed with one another. We couldn’t take our hands off one another. We ran home in the pouring rain together, stopping only to kiss.

We experienced the best of one another for a short period of time, and I know that our relationship lasted as long as it was meant to. We loved each other until we couldn’t. We chewed us up and spit us out. We got everything we needed to get out of one another. We fell in and out of love from worlds apart. But I still feel terrible. And I feel like I should be feeling more even though I have been overcome with intense conflicting feelings every day since we said goodbye. Every day for close to a year.

I guess I just want you to know that I didn’t make this decision in haste. I needed to get away in order to understand more of myself.

I regret not thanking you enough for watching me blossom and believing in me so that I could believe in myself. I should have told you just how much you helped me realize the endless bounds of myself, for better or for worse.

I should have thanked you for letting me go, even though it hurt like hell.

I regret doing this to you because you waited for me. Because I gave you dozens of silent chances in my head. Because you would take me back in a second and I am here telling you that I am confused. That I need more time. That is – time to think. Time to learn and explore and dream. But all you hear is that I need to do all of these things away from you, that I need time alone. That I would rather work on building my sense of self alone than by your side.

But I deserve someone who makes me feel alive. Someone who is generous and who makes my heart jump when I tell people that they are mine. And you deserve someone who doesn’t give you an expiration date.

I am scared that maybe I made a mistake, that maybe I am foolish, or maybe that this is all that my love amounts to. I am having trouble accepting the normalcy of the end of us. The lack of explosion.

I am scared that I will forget. I am scared that after a few months everything we had will feel just like a dream. A dream that is open-ended, a dream that will constantly be on repeat in our respective minds until the end of time. Fated to carry each other’s baggage.

I regret that I now have to give you to someone else. That someone else will nuzzle into your chest, and devour your smell. I regret that I gave it all up so easily and have only in hindsight realized the weight of my naivety. Or did I? Because I also remember being so incredibly devastated, and being met with oblivion, with dismissive niceties. I remember my anxieties being belittled or made to feel small. I remember that I didn’t have the means, or the patience, to heal you.

I remember crying on the dance floor a year ago. Turning around so that none of my friends would see. I was staring at your messages. They were curt, broken and hard to make sense of. I remember being confused, I remember when someone told me for the first time that I deserved a love that was better. A love that nurtured. A love I didn’t have to settle for. A love that swept me off my feet.

I regret that we were different together than we were around everyone else. That no one got a real glimpse of us, in love. I regret being so quiet. I regret that I couldn’t love you like you loved me. I regret that you couldn’t love me the way I needed you to. I regret that we’ve run out of things to say.

I regret that our relationship was already broken even when your fingers were strumming through my hair or when we sat across from each other on the floor in a fit of laughter.

I regret knowing it was the end before you did, and holding on anyways just in case. I regret not telling you just how nervous I was and just how serious I was when I said that I thought we lost our spark. Our magic.

I regret it all because I wish that I held on to those pictures for a little while longer. I wish I studied them. Even though I knew the ending wouldn’t change.

Neither of us can fully heal our heartbreak unless we are apart. We have to heal for ourselves, rather than for the possibility that one day down the line we will be together again.

Seeing you that day, when you came by to collect your things, actually helped me realize that I am better off without you. That I am happy now. Really happy. And I no longer doubt myself. I no longer rely on you for happiness. I no longer get angry or sad because you couldn’t make me happy.

In hindsight I had absolutely no idea who I was when I met you. I still really don’t. I’m not even sure that I knew what genuine happiness looked or felt like.

Maybe that’s what ruined us after all. My indifference. My sadness. All of which at the end of the day amounted to nothing.

Soon I will be able to think about you without ripping my heart out.

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Fashion Lookbook

MyScene taught me about style, empowerment, and compassion

Here’s a visual: It’s 2005. You’re sitting in front of the desktop computer in your house, which seems to have a box attached to the back of it, and you’re on hour 3 of playing MyScene. That’s right, MyScene. The online gaming site that let you transform into an interior designer, makeup artist, hair stylist, nail technician, spa business owner, and go on seemingly endless glamorous shopping sprees. The MyScene franchise consisted not only of computer games, but also of dolls and movies — Jammin’ In Jamaica is my personal favorite if you want to experience 44 minutes of pure nostalgia.

At the time, there was absolutely no denying that I wanted to be them. I mean, who wouldn’t? They’re all icons with flawless fashion. Each character Barbie, Madison, Chelsea, and Nolee had their own individual brand of sass, flare, and style. Plus, as we watched their characters come to life onscreen, we learned that these ladies were also empowered, intelligent, and compassionate. Barbie was interested in technology and business, Madison was a songwriter and band manager, Chelsea loved fashion design and sold items that she customized at the market, and Nolee was the sporty one of the group with an inclination to mathematics. 

To say the least, the MyScene girls introduced me to a world of girl power and badassery, and I cannot thank them enough for that. I grew up alongside four older brothers, so when I wasn’t trying to keep up with them, I was vigorously trying to find feminine outlets. And this was that for a while. I could be as unapologetically sensitive, bold, and imperfect as I wanted to be, and it was amazing. I felt like I was right there alongside them, navigating the plights of womanhood as a young girl trying to break through the mold. 

I used to spend hours on the computer too; hours that I now look upon fondly. I think that this is where I found my fashion roots, to be honest. For one, there was nowhere else that I could be a true fashionista and transform almost immediately into anything and anyone. My closet wouldn’t suffice for the kinds of possibilities and outfits that I was looking for, and neither were the handful of dolls clothes that I had. But here the options were boundless. I could be a superstar or a diva if I wanted to. And trust me… I was!

With sites like MyScene, we were able to quite literally express ourselves anyway we chose time and time again. I quickly learned to appreciate my creativity and let it run free as I surfed through different styles or aesthetics and matched them with different activities or careers. It was expansive, fresh, and valuable. I grew to adore this part of myself. 

I found out what I liked, what I didn’t like, and — while it may seem like a stretch — I even learned about budgeting (using coins inherited through the game of course), patience, precision, and discipline. I mean, the product that I came up with just had to be perfect if it was going to be successful, which is an ideology that has lasted with me into adulthood. 

I cherish those days spent with MyScene, sifting through skirts, headbands, and purses, because they morphed me into the woman that I am today and will be tomorrow. She is curious, warm, loud, and would much rather wear a dress than a pair of jeans. She has incredible drive, values empathy over anything else, and is willing to go the extra mile to take something from good to great. Oh, and she also still cries every time she watches a romcom.

What’s even better is that those early 2000’s MyScene styles that we all adored as kids have finally returned to mainstream fashion. We get to put all those years of gaming and idolizing to the test as we put on the outfits and the attitudes to match, to decorate our own lives like we did with Barbie, Madison, Chelsea, and Nolee so many years ago. 

Love Life

5 things I’ve learned from being a dog mom

Last week my puppy, Shiloh, turned one year old. That meant two things: one, he’s reached his full form and two, the hardest puppy months are finally over. I got Shiloh from an old high school friend who has his mom, Suzie. We knew his dad was smaller than Suzie, but how big Shiloh was going to get was still a mystery.

Fast forward 12 months: we now know he’s huge! He’s also potty-trained to go outside, he picks up commands pretty fast, and he’s stopped chewing on things. These things make it so much easier to care for him, although his puppy energy is still on a thousand from the moment he wakes up to right before I decide we’re going to bed.

Shiloh is an emotional support dog. I spend a lot of time working from home and he helps with making me feel less alone. When my anxiety is bad he helps me be more present. When I don’t feel like getting out of bed, he forces me to get up by either barking at me or nibbling at my hands suggesting that he needs us to go “outside.” The coolest part about having Shiloh has been getting to know his personality. He gets very excited about anything, loves every food but lettuce, fetch and tag are his favorite games, babies confuse him, he has trust issues with new people, and is very protective of his/our space.  

Before I got a dog, Mariah – my little brother’s girlfriend, who’s more like my younger sister – tried explaining just how much of responsibility a dog is, but it wasn’t until I found myself needing to put his needs before mine that I realized what she meant. It’s been fun though and I’ve learned a lot about what being a mom mean.

Being a mom to Shiloh has taught me:

1. Time management is crucial in the mornings

[Image Description: Woman pouring morning fruit shake doing a little happy dance.] Via GIPHY
I love having a thorough morning before leaving my house. I like to shower, make coffee, have breakfast, prep my food, and leave looking my best. With Shiloh, I’ve had to add time to cuddle with him, walk him, feed him, and make sure he feels comfortable staying home alone before I leave. After a while “needing” to walk your dog becomes a chore. Especially for me because Shiloh loves to take his sweet time going. If I mess up with the time, sleep in, and don’t get a chance to walk him (which has happened about full of time) a guilty feeling follows me the rest of my morning. I imagine him being in pain from needing to hold it and it makes me feel horrible. With this being said, I wake up earlier than I would if I wasn’t a mom.

2. Patience in the presence of anger goes a long way

A GIF of someone taking a deep breath as if to calm herself down.
[Image description: A GIF of someone taking a deep breath as if to calm herself down.] via GIPHY
I can not stress how important patience is when raising a puppy. When Shiloh wasn’t potty trained and chewed on just about everything, I was sure I was going to lose my goddamn mind. I found myself repeating things to him over and over again only to have him look at me with a cute gaze and without control still pee on our hardwood floor. Last week Wiz Khalifa posted a video of him talking to his son, Sebastian, on Instagram that shows exactly what I’m talking about.  I have to stay conscious enough to not give into anger. Yelling can easily become a habit because to me it feels natural. My family and I talk to each other by screaming. However, dogs — very much like little kids–  learn better through calm assertiveness and repetitiveness. Hence, patience.

3. Disciplining with intentional compassion is better than disciplining by instinct

A GIF of a dog licking a woman's chin.
[Image description: A GIF of Cookie, Rosanna Pansino’s dog, licking her chin.] via GIPHY
Compassion is the sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings and/or misfortunes of others. To me disciplining Shiloh with a hint of compassion means that I have learned to remember that he’s in his puppy phase. Unlike older dogs, puppies have a lot of energy and are extremely curious. Moreover, it is in every dog’s natural instinct to be scavengers so naturally, he’s going to eat what he finds. Some dog species are also more protective than others. Even at four months, new people in our house made him extremely anxious and he feels a strong need to protect. He is still this way. Instead of yelling at him, I remove him from the situation until he calms down. I slowly introduce the person to him with treats. Is it annoying and embarrassing when he won’t stop barking at new people who come over, yes? Do I still feel more concern for how he’s feeling than those of others, most definitely?

4. Being responsible for another being’s upbringing is hard work

A GIF of someone asking, "When can I take a break?"
[Image description: A GIF of someone asking, “When can I take a break?”] via GIPHY
Y’all, this is the biggest one. Being a dog mom has taught me that being responsible for another being’s upbringing is hard work. It is exactly what it sounds like. I use to be really hard on my parents until I realized just how hard it is to actively try not to mess up your kid. I think a lot about what’s in his food, how I discipline him, the things I let him get away with, and how safe I make him feel, amongst a bunch of other things. I question the things I’m doing right or wrong. I might be dramatic to take the time to think about these things, but if so it just means I’m going to be an extremely thoughtful mom to my human children.

5. I am most definitely not ready to have human kids

A GIF of someone making a nonchalant shrug.
[Image description: A GIF of someone making a nonchalant shrug.] via Genius
I love my dog, and he has taught me that I am going to make a great and loving mother. With that being said, I am still not ready for real kids. He has shown me how my mornings need to change for real kids, how annoying it feels to have to go to work and leave him alone, the struggle that is disciplining another being, and how hard it is to care for someone who depends on you for their survival. In short, I’m good love.

Health Care Love Wellness

5 practical ways to help a friend dealing with a health crisis

When I learned I needed a bone marrow transplant to treat my rare blood disease, I was terrified. I’ve lived my whole life with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, so I’m used to doctors’ offices and needles. Chemotherapy, the operation, and the post-op recovery were more taxing on both the mind and body than I could have prepared for. Thankfully, I had the support of wonderful friends and family.  

It’s not uncommon to feel helpless when someone you care about is going through a health crisis, but there are ways you can support them.   

1. Send a message

Image description: A woman in a gray shirt holding a white phone looks distressed as she texts.
Image description: A gif of a woman in a gray shirt holding a white phone looking distressed as she texts via Giphy

A great way to show support is to text. I understand it’s hard to know what to say sometimes. Friends of mine were concerned that they didn’t feel like they could talk to me about their lives while I was going through something so traumatic.

Even if the text was as simple as “thinking of you *heart emoji*” or some silly pop culture gossip, it always meant a lot. My friends understood that I may not answer, depending on how I felt. But, regular conversations kept me connected to the outside world and made me feel less isolated.

2. Recommend movies, TV shows, podcasts – anything!

Image description: George Costanza from television show "Seinfeld" watches tv while eating popcorn.
Image description: A gif of George Costanza from the television show “Seinfeld” watching tv while eating popcorn via Giphy

My best friend handed me a flash drive and a note detailing its contents. Another friend lent me his entire DVD collection. My brother bought me all the silliest and weirdest movies he could find.  Other friends came over with classics from our tween-hood like Aquamarine and Freaky Friday.  

These gestures were not just thoughtful, but useful. I had a lot of time to kill and not a lot of energy.  I had a whole library of hand-picked content at my fingertips provided by my friends and family.

3. Visit if you can

Image description: A gif of Lisa Simpson playing saxophone to her dad, Homer Simpson, who is asleep in a hospital bed. The caption reads "mellow jazz" between two musical notes.
Image description: A gif of Lisa Simpson playing saxophone to her dad, Homer Simpson, who is asleep in a hospital bed. The caption reads “mellow jazz” between two musical notes via Giphy

Okay, this one very much depends on the health crisis going on and if it’s safe to be around. I could only have visitors in small groups as I was in reverse isolation with an immune system wiped out by chemo. 

Being sick is so emotionally exhausting.

I didn’t actually invite anyone to visit me, but they kept in touch with my dad and brother who stayed at my bedside day and night. Even though I was often too sick to speak, their presence was a supportive force I truly needed.

If your friend has a parent, partner, or friend you can contact about visiting, it may be a good idea to plan through them. It’s more likely than not that your friend won’t reach out, so try to make arrangements yourself. If your friend isn’t feeling up for visitors, respect that.

4. Be patient

Image description: Mariah Carey on a late night show, taking a deep breath and gesturing with her hands.
Image description: A gif of Mariah Carey on a late-night show, taking a deep breath and gesturing with her hands via Giphy

I became severely depressed during the months of my ordeal, which can affect personal relationships. Some days, it was hard to find the will to move, let alone hold a conversation. My partner was incredibly patient with me despite my ups and downs.

Even turning on the TV was too much effort on my worst days.

He still came to my hospital room every weekend when he wasn’t in school to hold hands with my near-comatose, sickly bod. He never got frustrated with me or made me feel bad. After the operation when I was slowly trying to feel like a human again, my loved ones were the force that kept me going. When a friend is going through any crisis, be patient and understanding with them.

5. Help them to stay focused on the future

Image description: In a scene from "Scrubs", a woman with short brown hair appears tense while talking with a man, while another, a doctor, cheers her on from behind.

It’s hard to remain hopeful or cheerful when you feel like shit in every way possible.

From beginning to end, my transplant was a four-month ordeal. The days stretched on ahead of me and it felt like the nightmare would never end. My days lacked social interaction and the food was bleak. I had a severe stomach pain and way too much time on my hands.

Depression turned me into a shell of the person I had been just a few months before. I genuinely could not see myself ever getting better.

My loved ones helped me to stay focused on the future. My friends, my partner and I made plans to move to the city together when I was ready. We talked about trips to the beach and what our lives would look like in a few months. We talked about what my hair would look like when it finally grew back.

It was hard for me to focus on the future by myself, but the people in my life helped me to keep my head up.


I didn’t really learn how to be patient and loving until I adopted my cats

I’m not a light sleeper—at least, I wasn’t. But when my partner and I adopted two kittens from a local woman on Craigslist in early 2015, I suddenly found myself tuned in to every little noise the cats made in the night. From scratching at furniture to knocking things off counters, for three years, they’ve kept me awake more nights than I can count. And a few months ago, we brought home a third kitten that I quite literally found outside.

In the middle of the night when their antics wake me up, it can be hard not to react with anger. Why can’t you just let me sleep?

I’ve tried tricks from cat guru Jackson Galaxy to get them to sleep through the night. I’ve sprinkled catnip on their scratching tower to help them calm down. I’ve even—in fits of desperation—sat up and played with them at well past midnight, on nights when I needed to be up before the sun to get to work.

I don’t know what it’s like to have human children, and I’m not interested in learning. Having cats has taught me that I am in no way patient enough for kids of my own — but it’s also taught me how to be patient, not only with their antics but with all of my loved ones. It’s taught me that while I’m capable of taking really good care of small, mostly helpless creatures, there are some life skills that I’m definitely lacking.

For example: cats are messy, and I’m not good at cleaning. Growing up, I didn’t have chores, which now, as an adult, I think was a poor decision on my family’s part. I lack basic discipline when it comes to cleaning aside from regularly doing the dishes and washing/drying my laundry, though I’ll leave clothes in the basket for weeks before folding them.

When I assumed I would live my life as a cat lady/spinster, I didn’t worry about being messy. Then I met my partner, we moved in together, and we became cat parents, thereby increasing our mess potential by 300 percent. (Every cat is 100 percent messier than the average human, and we have three. I have no scientific basis for this claim; just experience.)

My partner grew up with parents who assigned chores and were detailed cleaners themselves. When we do housework now, they often ask me to do more work than I think is necessary, because our standards of clean are very different. This is tough, because I hate being told that 1) I’m messy (even though I absolutely am) and 2) I’m not good at something. I’m not great at perseverance when I’m bad at things, unless my motivation is to prove someone wrong.

Having cats means: emptying their litter boxes, sweeping the bathroom floor, cleaning up bodily fluids that are not my own, reclaiming chewed up pieces of toilet paper to be tossed in the trash, scrubbing dried wet food from their bowls, and scrubbing their hair from all kinds of surfaces in our apartment.

While I’m content to live in a fur-covered apartment, my partner (and our roommate, who’s severely allergic to cats) isn’t. That’s valid, but I hate it. Simultaneously, I’m glad there are other humans around to hold me accountable. Otherwise, the cats and I would live in lowkey filth. It’s a lot of work, and it’s so worth it, but it feels like it never stops. Obviously, my partner helps; we split housework fairly evenly. But still.

Being an adult, generally, is a lot of work. There’s work itself, of course, and then the commute required to get to and from there; there’s transportation fees, bills, and groceries; there’s cooking, cleaning, and staying on top of other household stuff. On top of that, you have to take care of yourself, maintain your relationships, and—if you’re like me—take care of your pets.

In a lot of ways, I feel like I didn’t really become an adult until we decided to bring home cats of our own. I grew up in a family that usually had dogs; my parents currently have two dogs, two cats, and two guinea pigs. You know those scenes in books, shows, and movies, where a parent tells their kid they can get a dog only if they promise to take care of it? Making that decision on your own, as an adult, feels monumental. It also requires some adjustment, especially when you’re in a relationship.

I’m not the only one affected by the cats’ antics, and sometimes that causes tension between my partner and I. We both get frustrated with them, especially when they keep us up more often than not. Sometimes, we “take turns” dealing with them—much like parents of human children, from what I understand—and other times, one of us just ignores what’s happening to force the other into dealing.

Passive-aggressive pet parenting is a thing, and not always a good one. I’m even more inpatient than my partner, which means I’ve had a much steeper learning curve re: how to deal with the cats misbehaving even when I’m so frustrated I want to scream. Cats don’t react well to anger. In fact, anger usually spurs them on, because they’re clawing the blinds or knocking glass dishes off the counter to get your attention.

Likewise, people don’t react well to anger. As someone who has struggled with my temper all my life, my propensity to get upset and shout when things aren’t going well is strong. That doesn’t bode well for someone who works in customer service, as a team leader, in a high-speed work environment.

It’s taken me a while, but I’m finally reaching the point where I no longer yell at the cats when they’re misbehaving.

Simultaneously, I’ve gotten better at thinking before I speak, and when I’m still not able to do that, I apologize genuinely: to coworkers, to friends, to family. Coming into frustrating moments from a place of love is ultimately better than coming into them from a place of anger. When I pick up my cats to cuddle them because they’re wandering around the house yelling, they immediately start to purr. It’s incredibly calming, and I welcome it every time.

Humans don’t purr (usually), but I’ve found that when I exercise kindness with people the same way I do with my cats, the reaction is very similar. It’s much easier to get along with people and form strong, healthy bonds when you don’t snap at them every time something goes awry. Maybe if I’d been responsible enough as a kid to have a pet of my own, I would have learned that lesson sooner. At any rate, I’m glad to be learning it now.

Love + Sex Love Life Stories

My best friend just got engaged. If you ask me, I wish she’d dumped the guy.

When one of my close friends got engaged this past summer to a guy she’d been dating only a short time, I can admit that I wasn’t as thrilled as all her other friends. Yes, I was excited for her, but the proposal seemed to come out of left field, and I had mixed feelings.

Let’s just say, I’m not a huge fan of her fiancé.

He has an irritating tendency to mansplain everything. A lot of the questions he asks and the comments he makes are pretty condescending. I can tell he’s not actually trying to be malicious or an asshole. It seems to be a habit that he’s either been exposed to or engaged in for so long, that it’s just a normal part of the conversation for him.

Nonetheless, I can barely stand 20 minutes of that shit, so I don’t know how my friend is going to spend a lifetime with him.

He is also materialistic and easily impressed by how much things cost. He loves the performance of wealth. He can talk endlessly about expensive cars, exclusive neighborhoods, and how much revenue the company he works for generates in a day.

I’m all for having nice things, but I find the constant talk of money smothering.

This is why I was so surprised when she announced her engagement. Instead of congratulating her, I wanted to scream, “Why the fuck are you marrying this dude? He’s insufferable!”

I legitimately thought the photo of the ring she sent was a joke at first because I didn’t think she would marry someone so asinine.

As I slowly got used to the fact that she was engaged, I had to ask myself whether or not I should keep my mouth shut about how I genuinely feel about him. Obviously, if he was abusive or if I thought he might harm her, I would speak up right away.

But telling my good friend that her fiancé is an air-headed jackass… just makes me look like the jackass.

Even though I desperately want to tell her that she deserves better, I realize that confronting her about her engagement is invasive. I may be dumbfounded that she wants to spend the rest of her life with this guy, but to her, marrying him makes perfect sense.

I know that if I questioned her decision, it would hurt her immensely and our friendship would be over.

So, I quickly learned the valuable lesson of biting my tongue.

It’s never the right move to make someone justify their engagement or marriage. No matter how delicately you lay the groundwork, you’re going to come off as rude and unsupportive. You may have good intentions, but they don’t actually matter; you’re not the one getting married to said obnoxious person, so your opinion doesn’t technically count. There’s no need to butt into someone’s exciting moment and leave everyone with hurt feelings and resentment.

That’s wrong and it won’t accomplish anything positive.

At the end of the day, I know it’s not my business, or my place, to point out her fiancé’s bad habits.

Maybe she sees them and is fine with them; maybe she doesn’t see them at all. Just because the qualities she wants in a partner are not the same as mine doesn’t mean that she’s wrong or that her relationship is invalid.

It’s been an interesting experience that I’ve learned a lot from. I’ve learned that your friends don’t always end up with who you think they will – or should – and that’s okay. I am pretty outspoken, but I’m realizing there’s a time and place to speak your mind.

I’m figuring out how to maintain bonds as our lives shift and change.

I would much rather keep a friendship intact because I care more about my friend, than I do about trying to prove I’m right.


You literally can’t even and that’s totally okay

I’m not gonna lie, I’ve said “I can’t even” more than a few times. I’ve also made a lot of fun of the white girl culture of literally not being able to at all – but I’m starting to wonder if maybe I was being a bit harsh. I know everyone ruined this for us in the last year or two, but I’ve shortened it to “Can’t,” and I am 100% confident it’s an acceptable expression of your state of being because we are bombarded with so much bullshit thanks to our world being extra connected via social media that it’s okay to not have any time or energy to break it down for idiots.

[bctt tweet=”I’ve shortened it to ‘Can’t,’ and I am 100% confident it’s an acceptable expression of your state of being.”]

thank you, Ru

I think it’s fine, and totally acceptable to canNOT in certain situations. What’s more, can’t evening isn’t the first time in the world, or even in English, when we were trying to express this same sentiment.

[bctt tweet=”your bullshit, world, is not just one mountain, it’s a whole series of them”]

Does anybody remember having to talk to peoples’ hands? That’s because they couldn’t with you. It was a gestured stop sign because you were being so obtuse that they were unable to discern where to begin explaining things for you – and guess what, they don’t have the time and they don’t owe it to you either. Given the actual mountain ranges (yes, your bullshit, world, is not just one mountain, it’s a whole series of them), I’m going to check myself and my snark machine and give people a pass every once in a while when I see they are not capable. At that rate it’s not just semantically interesting that one word can express a complicated blend of emotions ranging from apathy to irritation to rage, it might actually be lifesaving.

omg i will stupefy you so fast

[bctt tweet=”you’ll probably find yourself running out of fucks to give by 9am”] 

If you have a computer or leave your house, or basically have any contact with humanity, you’ll probably find yourself running out of fucks to give by 9am. It piles up that fast. Here are some of the things I couldn’t with in the last few days:

1. The Donald

this guy. he’s like the shitty uncle you can’t get rid of.

It’s not just you, buddy, it’s mostly your followers. What’s so irritating about this charlatan is that he’s a classic swindler – just a shark in a suit trying to sell some shit to you. The fact that a) PEOPLE ACTUALLY ARE GLEEFUL ABOUT HIS IDEAS and b) THE SAME PEOPLE CAN’T UNDERSTAND THAT HE’S JUST CONNING THEM AND CASHING IN ON THEIR BIGOTRY. I can’t with this all the livelong day.

2. Daaaaawkinssss

oh man, where to start with you, doc?

Once again, we have a situation where it’s not primarily the leader but his followers who peeve me so grievously. There isn’t enough time in the known universe to explain to all the new atheist crew that they can’t be scholars of Islam after a 12 second Google search. There isn’t enough time to explain to them that you can’t be a misogynist and a humanist – those two things are mutually exclusive. Also they wouldn’t listen to me anyway because I don’t have a penis. Can’t.

3. MRAs

tell me more. but wait until i’ve driven this railroad spike into my ear, k?

Enough said.

4. Anti-Choice whackos

i don’t even have the spoons (p.s. that woman is a hero)

I try to keep in mind that anti-choice activists are probably not all that brilliant since they don’t seem to understand simple medical science and in fact, I’m pretty sure anti-choice activism can lead to some kind of trauma-related psychosis as the result of being constantly hateful, but few things make my blood boil more than watching them throw their tantrums at individuals who are simply trying to exercise their bodily autonomy.

5. ‘muh guns!’

in case you missed it, things did not end well

Overnight legal prodigies who take to social media the day after a school shooting to explain why gun control will never work. But please don’t stop there, guys! Okay sure Carly, we’ll also go ahead and mock people for even suggesting that any modifications to our gun policies would help at all. And then we’ll forget to spare a moment between our self-righteousness and our fear that it might be slightly more difficult to obtain and own inanimate objects that are specifically designed to kill to remember that some people lost their kids to violence yesterday.

6. Voluble Haters

short answer is ‘yes’

White people who complain about Kanye West, Nicki Minaj, or any celebrity of color who doesn’t live up to their expectations of what a person of color living in the spotlight should exemplify. There are soooo many things to deconstruct that, whoops, would you look at that? I simply can NOT. You’re mediocre. They’re not. Get over it.

can’t all day 2k16

If you hear me saying “Can’t” to you and you feel all bent out of shape about it, just try and be thankful that I decided to say that instead of slapping your face. Think positive!

I certainly do.